


Bye, Bye, Blackbird

by Midnight_Solstice



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Angst, Human Names, Illnesses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2018-12-21 19:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11951496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnight_Solstice/pseuds/Midnight_Solstice
Summary: That fucking moron named Antonio Fernández Carriedo—yes, the idiotic one. He's a damned thief. That bastard is the exact person who has—as cheesy as this will fucking sound—stolen my heart. And, well...it's really damn hard to take it back, because he won't give it back to me, no matter how hard I try to reach out for it. [Spamano]





	1. Chapter 1

_ Forgiving does not erase the bitter past. A healed memory is not a deleted memory. Instead, forgiving what we cannot forget creates a new way to remember. We change the memory of our past into a hope for our future. _

_ ~Lewis B. Smedes _

* * *

I don’t really recall when it had started. But there was that one, particular thing I do remember, back before (or way after, I don’t fucking know) it started.

It was at a world conference meeting. Yes, I know, fucking  cliché . But there are more important matters at the moment. 

As usual, I sat next to my stupid little brother and the idiotic, happy-go-lucky tomato bastard. All was normal. The insistent chattering from every corner of the room, the loud arguments, the rousing laughter… No one was paying attention to the angry potato bastard up in front. Hell, even  _ I _ didn’t pay any mind to him. Honestly, I wonder why our bosses even make us go to these useless conferences. It’s not like we ever got anything done. 

Feliciano was speaking to his Japanese friend, Kiku. Since he wasn’t that much of a bastard, I let it slide. Besides, he was a polite man. Might as well give him my respect and address him by his real name—even if it is just inside my mind. 

My eyes slowly wandered around the room.

Alfred—the stupid hamburger bastard—was shoveling down hamburgers down his throat while slurping his soda rather loudly.  _ Slurrrrp. Slurrrrp.  _ Fucking annoying, I say! I don’t get how the eyebrow bastard can even  _ handle _ him. As Arthur tried to tell Alfred to stop eating because he was gaining weight, I saw the wine bastard sneak up behind the eyebrow bastard with a look of a predator on his face. I’m sure you all know what he was trying to do.

That’s when I suddenly lost interest in that scene, and turned my head towards a new direction. 

On the other side of the room, the cat bastard—Heracles— was taking a siesta, like he always does. He and I could be great friends if he kept that up. Siestas are my talent. And when we take siestas, we’re all quiet (besides from the loud snoring  _ some  _ countries do) and  _ much  _ less annoying. I should really follow his example one day. 

I gave a heavy sigh, looking to the other side of me. That’s where Spain—no, Antonio—was sitting. He was staring off into space, his face scrunched up, as if he was trying to remember something. I was quite surprised (and yet secretly pleased) that he was still sitting right beside me. Usually, he would be hanging out with the wine bastard on the other side of the room, sneaking back a glance at me from time to time. Bastard thought I didn’t notice...what an idiot. Of course I would notice—I always noticed him. 

My cheeks warmed at my last thought before I realized he was poking my cheek with his finger, smiling that stupid smile that I loved— _ hated  _ so much. 

“Lovi?” He asked, emerald eyes gazing intently at me. For once, he sounded so...serious. The intensity of his gaze had caused me to stare back, a dumb expression on my face.

“What?” Was all that I managed to say aloud, my voice cracking—just a  _ little _ , dammit. Díos, I probably looked so stupid right now. And Lovino Romano Vargas never looks stupid! Just sexy, hot, and Italian.

“...” Antonio was silent for a while, his smile slowly dispersing, his lips beginning to form a straight, thin line. My heartbeat began to accelerate and constrict in my chest. It scared me, it honestly did. 

If this...this stupid idiot wasn’t smiling, then...I really wouldn’t know what to do anymore. 

“Bastard?” I asked, masking my worry with a scowl on my face. “What is it? Spit it out already, dammit.” 

It took him about a minute of him staring at me like he didn’t know who I was—no, that couldn’t possibly be. Maybe he was just too deep in thought to answer. That was what I had told myself, and the other thought was quickly dismissed. 

Finally, he seemed to have snapped back to reality as he opened his mouth, but it suddenly snapped shut again. I saw confusion in his eyes. Was that even sorrow and despair, too? Again, he opened his mouth and closed it—before I knew it, he was gaping like a fish, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to find the words to say. 

My heart was still beating rapidly, now. What the hell was wrong with him? Sure, he was still acting like a happy idiot, but he usually wasn’t _ this _ stupid. 

“Hey...bastard, are you...okay?” I asked slowly, and this time, I didn’t ask in a demanding voice. Instead, I had spoken softly to him, something I rarely did with other people. 

I don’t know what had caused me to expect that the worst was going to happen—maybe it was because I was a downright pessimist. Who the fuck knows? But nothing out of the ordinary had happened as he blinked twice and smiled again, rainbows and sunshine and all. That stupid bastard got me all worried for nothing, dammit.

“Of course I’m okay, Lovi! Aww, were you worried about me?” He cooed outwardly, gushing about the blush that was now adorning my cheeks. “You look just like a tomato!” 

My reaction was easy to predict. My cheeks got warmer, my string of curses...his oh-so  _ hilarious  _ teasing. “Fuck you, bastard.” 

Antonio only smiled brightly at that, before the potato bastard slammed his fists on the table again, signaling that it was officially time to  _ get the fuck out of there— _ do productive things. As he began yelling, I tapped on the tomato bastard’s shoulder, motioning towards the door. I saw him nod in understanding as I slowly slipped out of my seat as the Potato was distracted by Feliciano’s daily cry of  _ ‘Pastaaaa! _ ’. 

Antonio had followed after me, silent and unnoticed, we both escaped the conference room in no time. The both of us always slipped out during the meetings, and no one would notice. What we usually do once we’re free is walk around outside—it really depends on what country we were currently in for the meeting, though. For example, if we were in Germany, I’d buy a ticket to South Italy (or Spain, occasionally, dammit) as soon as we could, and we’d both be in a better place. However, if we had a meeting in Spain, like we were right now, we’d stroll around the streets, exploring the heart of Madrid. 

Antonio had shown me almost every city he had, and it wasn’t like I was impressed, or anything. Don’t get the wrong idea, bastards...tch. Spain was just... _ so-so _ . South Italy was  _ ten-fucking-times _ better. Hands down.

“So, where are you taking me next, bastard? Not that I care or anything, but I need to be mentally prepared for your coo _ —I mean, stupid— _ cities and shit.” I grumbled, kicking a small rock across the pavement as I walked side by side with Antonio.

He grinned at me, his emerald eyes shining with their usual happy luster. "Next, we're going to visit Barcelona!" 

That was when I abruptly stopped walking altogether, staring at him with a shocked expression. Antonio didn't seem to notice that I stopped for a while, before he suddenly realized I wasn't next to him anymore and quickly looked back. Again, that look of confusion was gracing his features...

"...Antonio. Are you really okay?" I asked, eyeing him with suspicion, but I was mostly worried. Didn't he fucking remember? 

"Eh?" He blinked, looking perplexed. "I am okay, Lovi. I said so before... _ didn't I? _ " He questioned me, then looked down to the ground, as if he was really trying to remember whether he said that phrase before. I could see him fumbling with the sleeves of his shirt, as if he was nervous. 

Wait a fucking minute. Since when did  _ Antonio _ of all people get  _ nervous? _

...Alright. Something was definitely fucking wrong here. 

I shot him a scowl as I crossed both of my arms across my chest, tapping my foot impatiently. " _ Well?" _ I asked, and I could sense that he heard the flamboyant anger in my voice because he had visibly flinched at that single word that came out of my already foul mouth. I knew that he didn't want to answer my question, but I continued to interrogate him anyway, intent on finding out what he was hiding from me. "Anything you want to  _ tell _ me, bastard?"

Antonio was never one for secrets. If he ever had any stupid problem, no matter how big or small they were, he’d tell them to me without thinking in a heartbeat. I felt… _ guilty, _ to say the least. He would ask me for help whenever he needed it, that stupid idiot. 

And here  _ I _ was. 

Locking up all of my problems and insecurities into a minuscule, beating box. The box would beat rhythmically, as if it was making music. Sometimes, it irritated me to even have the knowledge that _ it was still beating _ . It irked me to know that instead of confronting him and letting him know about these little problems that I had, I would instead keep it trapped within myself. 

That musical, little box inside of me, this irrelevant little box…

That precious item which I had built a cage around and locked it up with a thousand keys and chains…

The box that beat with such a beat that it seemed it was creating a tragic, sorrowful melody...

That was  _ my heart. My own special music box. _

I didn’t dare tell him anything about my lack of self confidence, or my difficult situations. I didn’t want him to fret over me.  _ Especially _ not over me.

But here I was.

Questioning—no,  _ demanding  _ him to tell me that _ one _ thing he was hiding from me while I hid  _ everything _ from him. 

What _ right _ did I have to ask of him, to _ command  _ him to answer me when I could never even tell him  _ one  _ little thing about my own complications? 

I was such a useless, fucking bastard. Yet I had the audacity to call others bastards, though they had barely done anything to me. 

That’s right. I, Lovino Vargas, admit it. 

I’m not simply what I describe myself as. Hot, sexy, and Italian. No, you are wrong. There is much, much more to it than that. 

I’m hot-headed, easily angered, hated by many people, despicable, negative, rude, mean, stubborn, cross...I always keep to myself and rarely ever trust others, much less open up to them. 

And so what? 

Yes, I am all of those above. I do confess, and I acknowledge every single one of my flaws. But did you know? 

That fucking moron named Antonio Fernández Carriedo, he knows. 

He  _ knows _ that I’m hot headed. He  _ knows _ that I’m easily angered.

He _ realizes _ that I am hated by many people, how I am so disgustingly despicable, negative, rude...

And yet he  _ understands _ that I am mean, stubborn, cross, and that I would rather keep to myself than consult to others and make friends.

Antonio perceives all of it. But he didn’t— _ won’t  _ leave me. He simply fucking  _ refuses  _ to. 

All he ever did was stick by my side through the rough the and strong, through the tough and the weak with an extremely bright smile on his face, telling me not to worry. Despite my yelling, cursing, and maybe even a few punches and headbutts...he still persisted and remained by my side.

That bastard...he was surely going to be the death of me. 

But, I digress…

That bastard is the  _ exact _ person who has— _ as cheesy as this will fucking sound _ —stolen my heart. And, well...it’s really damn hard to take it back, because he won’t give it back to me, no matter how hard I try to reach out for it. 

He was such a damned, filthy thief. But, fuck…I  _ loved  _ everything that made up the man named Antonio Fernández Carriedo. I loved him so  _ goddamned _ much that I let him keep my heart—my  _ music box _ .

“Lovi…” He mumbled, still refusing to make eye contact with me. Goddammit, why won’t he let me see his eyes? His amazing, gorgeous emerald eyes...they were always filled with happiness. But if he won’t let me see them, how the fuck am I supposed to feel reassured? It almost irritated me to oblivion...

"I...don't want to talk about it. _ Lo siento, m _ _ i querido _ . I will tell you eventually, but I just--I just  _ can't  _ right at this moment..." He shuffled his feet around, still staring at the  _ oh-so interesting _ ground. Dammit. Though I couldn't exactly see his features, I could tell that he was feeling depressed because he couldn't tell me, even though he obviously wanted to. "Please forgive me,  _ lo siento, lo sien _ — _ " _

"I fucking get it, alright?" I interjected, sighing quietly. Shoving my hands down my jean pockets, I looked off to the side, gazing upon some of the buildings of Spain. Damn it. Damn it all to Hell. It was just one thing he couldn't tell me, and he's already feeling bad about it, and he was even fucking apologizing! 

He wasn't the one who should feel guilty about telling me something. If anything,  _ I  _ should. And to be honest, I  _ do _ feel bad about it. But never Antonio. Never him.

He didn't deserve to feel unhappy, angered, or hurt in any way. Not again. That was then, when he was still a pirate and a conquistador. Now, however, he was just simply the happy-go-lucky, bubbly Spaniard I loved so much. I would never fucking allow him to get hurt anymore. He deserves all of the happiness in the world, unlike me, dammit.

“You don’t have to apologize, bastard. You didn’t do anything wrong,” I mumbled, eyeing a few blackbirds* (1) flying above us across the sky. “I’m not angry at you for keeping a secret from me, so stop sulking and— _ don’t you dare fucking cry!”   _ I exclaimed in not a demanding, but worried tone, surprised to see drops of tears staining the cement sidewalk where he was standing. I could feel it again, the aching of my heart, the worries knotting up in my stomach…

Why, just why...was he  _ crying?  _

I could feel the sorrow emitting from him as his shoulders shook lightly while trying to muffle his sobs into his hands, failing miserably. No matter how much I wished him to show me his face, he just wouldn’t look up at me. It made me feel absolutely dejected.

“I—I’m sorry, Lovino…” I heard him say. It was barely barely audible, a mumble barely above a whisper, but I had apprehended him anyways. 

Deciding I couldn’t take the sight of him— _ beautiful, wonderful, amazing _ —Antonio Fernández Carriedo crying, I sauntered over to him and, with much reluctance, embraced him lovingly, comfortingly, with my two arms. 

He did not waver as he automatically returned the warm embrace, leaning down so that he was height-level with me as I felt his nose in the crook of my neck. I could feel his tears staining my jacket; though I paid it no heed as I focused solely on the man in my arms, right here, right now.

“Antonio, it’s alright,” I said quietly to him, “You don’t have to tell me until you’re ready. Just...please,  _ please _ ...look up. Please, look at  _ me. _ ”

“I...can’t,” he says as he weeps, “I—I look so uncool right now, Lovi…” 

“ _ Bastard. _ ..I don’t give a shit if you think you look uncool,” I replied softly, my hands clutching the back of his shirt, scrunching it up. “Because to me, you...you will always be handsome, no matter what state you’re in…” 

“...Really, Lovi?” Antonio mumbled against my neck, his sobbing reduced to small sniffles. 

I nodded slightly, “Listen to me, Antonio. You—You are enchanting. I want to see your face, especially your smiling one. I just—I don’t know what I’d do without your smiles or your stupid, cheesy dates. You’re exquisite, stunning, captivating...anyone who says so otherwise can go fuck themselves. And I... _ ti amo _ .” 

For a while, it was silent. All I heard was the whispers of the wind, the singing of the blackbirds. 

And suddenly, Antonio had hugged me even tighter as I heard him whisper into my ear, “ _ Yo también te amo, Lovino.”  _

I felt heat rush up to my cheeks again, and I knew I must have been blushing a dark shade of red. Dammit, it was so fucking embarrassing how he could make me blush so fucking easily, and in just a few seconds, he had made my heart rate increase by at least ten fucking thousand.

He withdrew and I could finally see his face. His emerald orbs were glistening, beaming with ecstasy. Though they were slightly red and puffy from his previous sorrow, I could only describe everything about him as _ breathtakingly perfect _ . 

Antonio was shining so radiantly, I had to avert my eyes away from him in order to avoid becoming even more flustered than I already was. 

“I know, you idiot. I know…” I said fondly to him, a small smile creeping its way to my lips. 

He grinned his extraordinary grin and planted a kiss on my forehead, in which I responded with a low, affectionate grumble before I returned the favor and kissed him lightly on the cheek. 

“ You are perfect, _ mi corazón _ ,” he says affectionately. 

I only grunted in disbelief as a reply, and that was good enough for him.

Then, as embarrassing as it was, he took my hand into his, and together, we walked side by side, deeper into the heart of Spain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is cross-posted from fanfic.net to here! 
> 
> Blackbird* (1) -
> 
> They represent:
> 
> » Good omen  
> » Paradise  
> » Mysticism and Magic
> 
> Seeing a blackbird for most is a sign of a good omen. Apart from being a good omen, it could also refer to a heightened awareness either spiritually or in your personal life. It could also imply shyness and insecurity, which directly implies lack of self-confidence. It could infer to being vulnerable to the decisions made by others. The color black, as we know, is associated with supernatural prowess, hence lending the individual who sees a blackbird frequently in his dreams a mystical and magical feel.
> 
> Bye, Bye, Blackbird* (2) - The name of the song by Paul McCartney. This fanfiction is named after it, for...explainable reasons. I recommend listening to it, though it is an old song, written in 1926.


	2. Chapter 2

"Walking while holding each other's hands, we couldn't even do such a simple thing.

We can't go back to those times, and it would be over just like that.

I wish that the path home we walked together on would never end and continue for an eternity, just like that lone, blue blooming flower on the side of the road."

_~Yanagi Nagi, from the song Koibumi (Love Letter)_

* * *

"Lovino, I...I have Alzheimer's."

Antonio had told me those exact words when he was ready to confess. At first, I had froze, the words processing into my brain.

But my brain didn't want to believe those words, because the next thing I knew, I felt tears pricking the corners of my eyes. Yet I refused to cry.

Not now, dammit. Not in front of Antonio.

Though it all finally made sense. The times when he looked so confused when I mentioned something from the past, or even something that had just recently happened.

_Why?_

There were so many questions racing through my brain, so many images and memories flashing behind my eyes…

But they all started with the one simple word:  _why?_

 _Why_  does the world hate me?

 _Why_  do I have to be punished like this?

 _Why_  do I have to suffer so much?

 _Why_  did it have to happen to Antonio?

 _Why_  did Antonio, a nation, get a disease?

 _Why_  did  _Dio_  like to make me feel so much anguish?

 _Why_ couldn't it have been me instead of Antonio?

Why, why, why…

Why do all of the things, all of the  _people_  I considered  _precious_  in this cruel world have to disappear from my sight?

He was so close to me; yet he was so far away. Antonio was just within my grasp, yet I could not find my hand to intertwine with his.

It was always my biggest fear when I was younger.

I was so afraid.

Afraid of the world, afraid of the people around me, afraid of being weak and useless, afraid of simply  _not being good enough for anyone._

However, there was always just one thing I truly feared the most.

I was completely and utterly terrified of...Antonio  _abandoning me._ Antonio  _disappearing._ Antonio  _dying._

As a young nation, I had a bad temper. I would fuck things up instead of cleaning properly. Believe me, I tried. I tried  _so, so_  hard to help. I wanted someone to praise me for doing something correctly for once. I wanted someone to smile at me, to tell me that I was a good boy. I just...I wanted to be  _loved,_  to be showered with affection.

But in the end, I always messed up, no matter how much I attempted to successfully complete a task. And then they would yell and scold me. In the end, I would end up with a punishment without food for the entire day.

I had found that my arms and legs wouldn't stop shaking. My body was trembling, all on its own. I didn't know what to do. Because of that, I could not clean. When asked to do so, it would usually end up with a precious item shattered on the floor, ultimately resulting in me having to sweep the shards of glass up as well.

People called me clumsy and stupid, so I had cursed at them and decided that the world was full of dumbass jerks. It was at the moment in time that I had adopted my temper and foul cursing.

It was a foreign thing to me back then, this emotion called ' _love'_.

The only word I really knew was ' _imperfect'_.

No one really wanted me for me. They just wanted my land, my people. That's all I was ever wanted for. It was never for  _me_  as a person, just me as a  _nation_.

On the other hand, Feliciano…

Feliciano had it all.

Everyone loved North Italy. He was so perfect, compared to clumsy, little, old South. Even my own Grandfather favored him over me.

To everyone else, to the world, to the people of Earth…

South Italy was as irrelevant as a speck of dust on the road.

When that realization crashed down upon me, that was when I had shut everyone out. I concealed all of my true emotions inside of my heart. I didn't want anyone to hurt me anymore. I never wanted to feel that wretched aching of my heart, the tears threatening to spill over.

None of it. It would never happen again. I had made sure of it, and soon enough, everyone really did despise me.

I enjoyed it that way. My little performance worked well. It kept the cruel people away from me, leaving them to fawn over how adorable Feliciano was. I was content with that for many years and centuries.

But then I started having second thoughts.

"Why can't he be more like his brother?"

"They're twins, but Feliciano is much more likable and skillful!"

"Whoever ends up having South Italy as their land, good luck! I heard he's an awful brat…you're better off with North!"

I started questioning my appearance. My personality. My clothes, the way I dressed. My hair, my eyes, my nose, my mouth. My body.

_Am I too ugly?_

_Am I better off acting more like Feli?_

_Why was I not good enough?_

As the decades passed, my insecurities grew tenfold.

Every mention of Feliciano around me made me grit my teeth. Every coo about how sweet and charming Feliciano was, my hands balled into fists. Every 'oh, you're so perfect, North Italy!' made my heart ache and my stomach twist into knots.

Every. Single.  _Damn_.  _Word_.

It made me feel worthless, inferior. I was tired of being me. I wanted to be someone else. I thought that, if I tried acting like Feliciano, maybe they'd like me.

So that's what I did.

"Good morning, sir, miss!" I said the next morning, surprising them both.

They both looked shocked for a moment before their expressions changed to a look of pure disgust. "Aren't you South Italy? People told me you were a mangy little brat. Scram!" The woman sneered at me scornfully.

And so I ran, with tears streaming down my face.

I never tried to be someone else ever again. I only fell deeper into the black hole that was inside my heart.

I decided, if acting like someone else wasn't enough to make people like me, it must have been because of my looks. It was true, Feliciano was much more cuter than I. I felt jealous that he would never experience the same things I have, jealous that everyone loved him so much.

I absolutely hated him. Yet, I loved him for being my stupid little brother.

I hated that I loved him. I loved that I hated him.

I then decided once more to isolate myself from the rest of the world, insecurities forever locked up deep inside of myself.

And then Spain.

Spain, Reino de España, the Kingdom of Spain.

Antonio Fernández Carriedo...

That bastard changed my life for the better.

He took me into his home and took care of me. He had chosen me over Feliciano. Or, rather, the piano bastard gave me to him. But he didn't reject me, like many other people did.

At first, I thought he was just another one of those stupid bastards. He ordered me to clean the huge mansion and be a good little 'henchman'. As always, I had screwed up most of the time and ended up destroying half of his priceless items.

But...he didn't punish me. On some occasions, he even gave me a tomato with a small smile. He'd pat me on the head as I took a bite into it, and I was instantly amazed by the heavenly taste of it. He looked like he really loved tomatoes, and well, I did too…

So I nicknamed him, 'the tomato bastard'.

I didn't trust him in the beginning, but I found myself beginning to actually... _like_  him.

He took care of me diligently, and even fought the scary Turkey bastard to keep me. He would praise me when I successfully grew tomatoes, pat me on the head for being a great sport with his favorite vegetables—or was it fruits? Well, whatever. It doesn't really matter much. All I felt was happiness everytime he smiled at me.

Before I knew it, I began to crave for his attention. I would sometimes mess things up on purpose so that he could look in my direction and speak to me. It did not matter what he said—I just felt incredibly happy that he didn't ignore me like many others did. He could scold me, but I didn't even mind anymore.

For the first time in what felt like a million years, I felt what it was like to be wanted. It made me feel extremely ecstatic.

And maybe, just maybe...I began to trust Antonio more than I should have. I began to feel what 'love' was, for my very own caretaker—my own Boss.

Those emotions overwhelmed me, yet I didn't reject them like I thought I would. I felt that, maybe just this  _once_...I'd learn how to love.

And so I did.

Over the years, my feelings only grew for him. For Antonio.

He was the perfect image of an angel. His carefree, yet gentle smiles. His bright green eyes that glowed so beautifully when he looked at me—it was like his eyes were the most precious, delicate emeralds. His kindness to everyone…

I just... _loved him_ so much, with all of my fucking heart, dammit. I hate sounding like a cheesy fucker, but... Antonio meant the world to me. Only his presence would save me from the beast within myself.

So, when those words left his mouth—it felt like my world was falling apart. It was quickly torn to miniscule pieces, burned, and trampled on. Almost at once, all of my carefully locked up insecurities escaped out of that box, and I found tears threatening to spill, overwhelmingly so.

"Lovi…" He whispered quietly, but I couldn't see his facial expression through my blurred eyes.

And then I broke.

I couldn't stop the tears from flowing—and after a minute I began to sob, tears cascading down my cheeks at a fast speed. I whimpered and wailed, all the while trying to unsuccessfully stop the tears with my hands. All of the emotions I had locked inside of me for so many centuries poured out like raindrops falling endlessly from the sky.

I wanted to kick and scream. I wanted to throw a fucking tantrum and curse the world for being so damned cruel to me. I was cursed to damnation, of course, I realized. I always had been.

Just when I had someone so important to me, the world wanted to take him away from me.

I suddenly found myself enveloped in his arms as he pulled me against his chest. I didn't even push him away like I usually did—for I no longer had the motivation or heart to do so. All I could see, feel, and smell was Antonio.

"Shh, Lovi…" He whispered soothingly into my ear, comforting me. "Please don't cry...if you do, you'll make me cry, too…"

I refused to stop. Not because I didn't want to listen to him, but because I just simply couldn't. I just felt so utterly hopeless—like there was no reason left to even live anymore. A world without Antonio is like a world without colors, a world without sound, a world without happiness…

And so here I was, sobbing my heart out to the man that should be crying, instead of me. Antonio was going to die. He was going to forget everything….and die.

I knew that. I knew it, yet, instead of comforting him, he's comforting me.

Why am I so pathetic? I can't even be strong for him, like he is for me.

I hiccuped and clutched at his shirt, my tears staining his shirt. I was even getting his clothing dirty, but all he did was run a hand through my hair and hugged me tighter.

Why are you so nice to me, when all I do is cause you trouble and worry?

We both stood there for a while. After a moment, he led me to his bedroom, and I ended up crying myself to sleep, with his soft murmurs in my ears and his warmth around my body.

My music box began to play a tragic melody.

* * *

It became a daily routine during the five months that had passed. I would wake up, sitting beside Antonio's bed. I would never leave his side, in fear that if I did, he would forget me the moment I left.

"But I'm perfectly fine, Lovi! There is nothing, not even this illness, that will make me forget you! You are my life, Lovino. If you suddenly disappeared from my mind, I would feel like something was missing. Like a piece of me was gone. Without you, there is no me," Antonio whined to me one day, noticing how I wouldn't even let him go to the bathroom alone.

"Yeah? Well, too bad. I don't believe you. I don't trust that damned disease that you have."

I know what you're thinking. No, you idiot, I didn't actually go  _inside_  the bathroom with him. Fucking perverts. I just—you know. Stood outside while hearing him piss and shit. I know, I sound like a fucking highly skilled stalker, but I can't just get over my fear. I was filled with doubt, worry, fear, and paranoia. How would you react if the person that was the most important to you suddenly forgot who you were, huh?! Yeah...so you can understand why I took it so seriously.

"But it's embarrassing to make noises while you're standing out there!  _Lovi_ ~!" He continued to whine some more.

So I responded with, "We've known each other for so many centuries—plus, you saw and heard me piss and shit when I was young! Just  _go_ , dammit! There's nothing to be embarrassed about!"

And so life continued on.

But Antonio's Alzheimer's only got worse as the days passed by. He eventually started forgetting things more frequently, forgetting what he just did and said. Forgetting his past days of being a conquistador and a pirate…

It broke my heart to see him in such a disheveled state. I did all I could to help and support him from the sidelines. Eventually, I let him out of my sight once in a while, once I knew he really wouldn't forget me.

I wish I could be useful to him, in times like these…

"Oi, Antonio! Come down here, I made us lunch!" I said, finalizing the finishing touches on the pasta. Perfect.

I heard him walk around a bit upstairs, then stumble down the stairs with a perplexed expression on his face, "Eh? Um..er..Lovi?"

"What is it, bastard? Are you not hungry?" I asked, looking up to look at him as I placed the two plates on the table, as well as the utensils needed to eat.

"Ah..no. It's just—didn't we just eat lunch?"

I paused my actions, stopping myself midway as I squatted awkwardly in place, my ass above the seat of a chair. I could feel the fear and paranoia coming back again. "No, Antonio...we had breakfast. That was breakfast, not lunch." I had answered carefully and precisely, before settling myself into the seat.

"Oh~!" Antonio beamed, then sat down in the seat next to me. "I see!  _Lo siento_ , Lovi! I forgot again...ahaha!"

"Whatever…" I huffed, pretending to shrug it off like I wasn't worried. In reality, I was scared shitless. I didn't want him to forget.

I was afraid of his upcoming death, and his memory loss.

How many months did he have to live, anyways? One?

No, scratch that thought. I don't want to fucking know.

We both ate in absolute silence. It was unusual and nerve wrecking to me—he was usually always talking about something, no matter how irrelevant it may be. Like, about tomatoes or something.

But this time, he didn't say anything. Just ate in silence, with almost no facial expression on his face.

Glancing over at him, I noticed how extremely messy he looked. I  _know,_ he's  _always_ messy, but...this was the bad kind of messy. His hair, which always looked so natural when it was messy, looked—well… horrible. It didn't look right anymore. It was greasy and dirty, shining in an unnatural way. It stuck up in all sorts of different directions.

And his outfit. He was just wearing a plain, white T-Shirt and long, baggy sweat shorts. But even just  _that_  made him look ten times older than he usually appeared.

 _Dio_ , Antonio looked so... _so...ill._ It wasn't such a good idea to call him downstairs for lunch, after all...goddammit. Why do I always have to screw things up?!

Next time... _next time_ , and all of the times after that...I'll make sure that I bring the lunch to him instead. Even though he could walk perfectly fine, I don't want to make him do any more work that he actually has to.

The doctor told me to take care of him, since it's better for a family member, or close friend to take care of people with this kind of illness. It helps them remember things, he told me. Of course, I had eagerly accepted. I would do anything for Antonio, now…

I will take care of him. I will give him anything he wants.

Just this once.

Just until he. . .

. . .

. . . Leaves.

* * *

I was sitting in his room, holding a bowl of soup that I had made. He was beginning to become very weak, and though I just wanted to curl up and cry, I had to stay strong. For Antonio.

"Sit up, Antonio…" I said. I didn't demand him to do it—I just said it very softly, as if I was talking to a baby.

"...Ah? Lovi?" He questioned groggily as he reluctantly opened his eyes, his voice scratchy. "Is it time for breakfast?"

My heart flipped upside down at the question. "No... it's dinner. Come on, bastard...I'll feed you. B-But just this once, okay?"

Antonio only smiled at that, nodding eagerly. "Okay."

I brought the soup-filled spoon to my lips and blew at it lightly, blushing a bit as I did so. Hesitantly, I placed the spoon to Antonio's lips, once I deemed the soup to be less heated. He devoured it in less than a second.

I watched him while he did so, and he gave me a goofy, heart-wrenching smile. "It's good, Lovi! You really are the best cook in the world!"

I was sure my face was on fire, now. "Damn right I am."

He only laughed his melodious laugh, and I fed him the next spoon with my heart in my hand.

* * *

"Here, Antonio. Take this," I held the old music box out to him.

"What is it?" The Spaniard asked me, scrutinizing it carefully as he held the music box in his hand.

"What does it look like, idiot? It's a music box, obviously," I grumbled.

His emerald eyes had found the latch to open the box, and, with much reluctance, he did so.

A happy, upbeat tarantella tune began to play.

He looked up at me with wide eyes. "Lovi, I...what...is this?" Antonio repeated dumbly.

I was silent for a while, the tune reaching my ears, making me want to dance.

"Nothing," I told him. "Just a present for you. Keep it."

"Gracias, Lovino! The tune is adorable and fun!" He exclaimed, eyes shining as it continued to play. "It kind of… reminds me of you!"

"Yeah, well...you better be thankful, dammit. Anyways, I'm going to go do some things downstairs. Make sure you rest well, and call me if you need anything, okay, bastard?"

"Sí!"

I nodded and left the room, closing the door behind me.

. . .

And then I silently cried.


	3. Chapter 3

Final Chapter

"The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we'd done were less real and important than they had been hours before."  
― John Green,  _The Fault in Our Stars_

* * *

Antonio was weak. He could not even get out of bed by himself, anymore. His usual emerald, luster-filled eyes are now dull, tainted by the forgotten memories of the past.

...His smile?

What smile?

He no longer smiled, for there was nothing left to smile for.

Antonio struggled to remember things. He was slowly falling apart, little by little, piece by piece…

And I couldn't do a damn thing about it. He easily slipped through my fingers like droplets of precious, savored water.

"What day is it today, Lovi?"

My lips became a straight, thin line as I tried to hold the cry that threatened to voice itself. I had reduced it into a small, inaudible whimper as I attempted to answer ever-so-casually; "It's the seventeenth of March, bastard. You have a fucking calendar right next to your bed, why don't you look at that instead of asking me?"

"...Eh?" His eyes were filled with confusion as they wandered over to his wall, and those emerald orbs widening when they caught sight of the calendar. It was as if he never knew it was there before, even though I had told him the day before, and the days before yesterday. His mouth gaped open in surprise, "Oh! I forgot about that! Lo siento, Lovinito. You know I get confused a lot, ahaha..." He laughed dryly, smiling only just for a second before it was reduced to yet another blank, emotionless expression.

Antonio was acting so damn carefree, as if he didn't know that his memories and brain were slowly deteriorating as of this moment. That's why I fucking hated him for acting that way. He was  _dying_ , and all he could do was pretend that he wasn't! Damn him to hell!

W―Who the fuck does that, anyways?!

"You're a fucking idiot," My voice shook, I noticed. It fucking shook, but...he didn't seem to notice. Good! It's not like I wanted him to notice, anyways! Yeah, that's right! I don't give a flying shit!

…

D―Dammit.

Antonio solemnly rubbed the back of his head, attempting to do a cheeky grin, but even that had lost its shine. It was just a dark, hollow grin with no cheekiness within it whatsoever. "But I'm  _your_  idiot, aren't I, Lovi?" He questioned, his voice lacking its usual giddy ring.

And that broke my heart.

I wanted to agree so fucking badly.

I wanted to say,  _yes, you are my idiot, and I fucking love you so fucking much. Your emerald, green eyes are like the most glorious jewels in the galaxy. Your smile is as radiant as the sun that illuminates the darkness of my whole entire fucking world. I want you to hold me tight in your arms at night when there's a storm, so I can feel your comforting warmth that would sooth me to sleep. Your voice, oh, Dío, your voice...every time you speak to me, it's as if you are singing a wonderful melody that is even sweeter than honey. I want you to press your precious lips to my own, so I can taste your uniqueness; which must be a blend of tomatoes and spice. I fucking love you so much that it hurts, you fucking idiot. That's right_ ― _you are my marvelous, sensational idiot that I would give up my entire life for. Ti amo. Ti amo, Antonio. You are someone that I cannot describe my relationship with. All I can really say is; I am yours and you are mine. That is all, and that alone makes me happy and filled with satisfaction._

But I didn't.

Because I couldn't.

He wasn't my idiot. This bastard was going to  _die_  soon. Why the hell did I have to be so attached to him? When he leaves me all alone, I'll only suffer more than I have to. If I just...distance myself from him, when he dies, his death won't hurt me as much as it should.

. _..Right?_

Just those horrifyingly cruel thoughts made my heart drop, my stomach twist, and my eyes fill with unshed tears.

I'm such a moron. I can't do that, no matter how much I wished it to be true. Antonio was too important to me to just drop like a piece of flint on a shirt. He was literally all that I lived for, that bastard.

...Sometimes, I wished that my life wasn't so screwed up like this. Maybe if I had tried harder to become a genuinely better person, Dío might have forgiven me and wouldn't have given me this goddamned curse. Maybe he would have seen past my damned exterior and searched inside of me, where my true feelings and heart lay.

Antonio probably wouldn't be dying right now if I wasn't such an idiot.

Instead of replying, I gave a stiff nod of my head, turned on my heels, and briskly left the room.

"Lovi? Where are you going?" I hear his voice weakly calling after me from inside his room. My head was pounding, my heart was aching. I needed to get out of the house for a while.

Without looking back or even pausing in my steps, I grabbed my car keys. "Out. I'm gonna get some fucking groceries, so take care of yourself for a bit, got it?"

"...Sí."

Satisfied with the response that I was given, I unlocked the front door and walked outside for some fresh air.

I took in gulps of air, calming myself, before I got into my car and drove to the closest grocery store.

* * *

Antonio sat in his bed, gloomily staring at the world outside through his small, square window. It was silent in his room, save for some blackbirds chirping from outside. The silence only added to his gloomy mood as his emerald eyes shifted to the table next to his bed, attention now on the music box that―

...Lovino? Lovino gave it to him, right?

_Right?_

He just couldn't  _remember._

_Why couldn't he remember?!_

In a fit of blind rage, Antonio viciously grabbed the music box and raised it above his head, fury and frustration only egging him on to throwing the precious instrument onto the floor. He needed to take his anger out on  _something, anything._ His usually sparkling emerald eyes were full of fire and absolute aggravation.

The pain of losing your memories was much more like losing your sanity. Questions constantly plaguing one's mind, the frustration of not understanding or knowing was like a venomous poison that slowly seeped into your brain.

Antonio, no matter how much he tried to recall past events, could not remember.

What did he have for breakfast today? He certainly didn't know. He had already forgotten it, though he knew he had just had his breakfa― _did he_ _ **really**_   _just have his breakfast a few moments ago?_

The questions came to his mind one by one, interrupting the flow of his thoughts. It was so  _confusing_ , and Antonio absolutely despised it. It was so utterly hopeless of even  _trying_  to remember, because he would forget his thoughts again in under a second.

Lips trembling as he desperately fought his own brain for answers, he felt his shaking arm move on its own.

_**CRASH!** _

In an instant, the music box was laying on the ground. Only then did Antonio seem to snap out of his crazed state; a small, horrified gasp rushed out of his lips.

However, instead of breaking; it began playing its lively, happy tune. A tarantella.

Silence had diminished into thin air as the tarantella tune snaked its way around the room, reaching Antonio's ears. Its melody enveloped him. His body, his soul, his heart, and...his broken mind.

The flabbergasted Spaniard sat there for a moment, frozen on the spot. His arm fell to his side.

It played and played; singing its song for Antonio's ears.

It sounded so strangely familiar, as if he had heard it somewhere before. Somewhere in the past, when he could still recall his memories and―

Something clicked in his mind, and it all came rushing back.

Almost all at once, Antonio's eyes filled with tears, and they were quickly shed. Through his blurred eyes, he looked over at the calendar once again.

Today wasn't the day to just lounge around in bed. No, not today.  _Never_  today.

This wasn't the time to be wallowing in self pity. He hastily wiped away his tears.

Gathering up all of his strength, a rush of adrenaline sparked through his body. Antonio ripped the covers of his blanket off of himself and stood up on his own two feet. Determination once again shimmering in his eyes, though still in his sickly appearance, he slammed the door to his room open with strength that he had thought he'd lost long ago, and marched out.

* * *

I unlocked the front door and stepped inside the seemingly desolate house. Placing the grocery bags on top of the counter in the kitchen, I paused my actions as I felt a creeping suspicion bubbling within me.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Usually, whenever I came home, that stupid bastard would be yelling and whining my name, bugging me until I walked into his room.

So, why―?

Panic surged through my mind as my heartbeat accelerated; no, he couldn't be…

Dropping my keys onto the floor, I swiftly rushed to his room, only to be greeted by an already opened door.

A small, lively melody met my ears.

Peering inside the room, I noticed that there was no one in sight.

His bed was all fucked up, as if he was in a hurry to go somewhere. My eyes scanned around the room until it found the source of the music: the music box.

It wasn't broken or damaged upon closer inspection. However, it seemed as if that idiot threw it onto the ground, making it open by itself.

...Shit.

I sighed, picking the precious item up, closing it.

To be quite honest, this dumb ass music box is my most treasured possession, sadly.

Why?

Because...when I was younger, before any kind of relationship blossomed between that bastard and myself, he gave it to me as a present.

I think he had noticed that my arms and legs couldn't stop shaking; so he had bought me a music box with the tarantella playing on it, to make me dance the shakiness* (1) away.

Fucking asshole. I hated how embarrassing it was, but…

I felt ecstatic when I received it. It made me feel warm inside, to see that somebody had cared enough to give me a gift.

That was many centuries ago, when I was still young and stupid…

* * *

Flashback

_I glared at my worthless hands._

_I fucking hated it. No matter what I did, they wouldn't stop shaking!_

_What was wrong with me? What was wrong with my body? My legs had the same problem, too!_

_Dammit...it's not my fault that I keep messing up! It's my body's fault for being stupid!_

_I'm currently trying to clean up that jerk bastard Spain's house. Stupid slavedriver making me clean up his stupid ass house!_

_I'm holding the broom correctly, but it won't stop shaking! Ugh, I hate this! I can't fucking work like this!_

_Groaning in frustration, I threw the broom onto the ground and sat down, glaring at nothing in particular. "I give up, dammit! Spain can clean his own stupid house!"_

_Just then, the front door opened, only to reveal that stupid bastard that I absolutely hated. He grinned his idiotic grin when he saw me, holding a bag in his hands._

" _Romano! Were you slacking off again?" The bastard asks me sternly, but he didn't seem to be angry._

" _No! I was just taking a break, you idiot!" I had retorted, crossing my arms over my chest. I sent him a glare for good measure._

 _He walked over and sat down next to me. That jerk dared to ruffle my hair afterwards, too! And he_ laughed  _at me, dammit! "Oh, Romano. You really are too cute!" The bastard sang out all too happily, placing the bag beside him. My curiosity peaked as I stared at it; eager to know the contents of the bag._

_"Shut up, you jerk! What's in the bag?" I quickly dismissed his comments and went straight to the point. There was no use in beating around the bush, dammit._

_Spain grins, chuckling at how impatient I was, probably. Asshole. "Your present from Boss is what's in the bag!" He exclaimed with a small hum afterwards._

_He reaches over to the bag, sounds of crackling and rustling from the plastic bag reached my ears. I peered over his shoulder, almost hanging off his arm to see what he was taking out of it. At last, he holds the item in his hands and places it in front of me so I could see._

_...And I was obviously highly disappointed in what he got me. Because what was sitting in front of me at the moment was a stupid, ugly box. It was a light brown color, but it was a wooden box, dammit! Who the hell gives useless, wooden boxes as gifts?!_

_I guess he saw how disappointed I was, because I felt him pat my head (he was avoiding that damned curl, at least) and heard him chuckle lightly. "Open it, Romanito." He urges me on with that infuriatingly soothing and happy voice of his._

_I obeyed, only because I wanted to see what he got me, dammit! It wasn't like I actually listened to him for once!_

_I gingerly reached out to feel it's texture, making sure that my hands weren't shaking. I usually tried to conceal it from people, and it took quite a lot of effort to make it look like I was completely fine._

_The small, wooden box felt smooth; it also smelled new. Don't ask me how things smell new, they just do! Hmph…_

_Slowly, I felt the small, metal latch on the box and unlatched it, opening the box._

_And then it happened._

_A lively, upbeat, tarantella tune filled my ears, which strangely made me want to dance._

_Inside the box was a small tomato with a turtle munching happily on it, spinning around. What a cheesy bastard! Turtles don't eat tomatoes! ...Well, at least, they normally don't. Tch._

" _How do you like your present, Romano? Boss made sure it was customized just for you!" Spain voiced, and I could practically hear the smile in his tone._

_It was a nice gift, to be honest. I fucking loved it, even though it was cheesy. The tune was beautiful, so uplifting, that if I didn't care about being embarrassed, I'd be dancing right at this moment. It warmed the void in my insecure heart; broke down a few locks and cages. Why?_

_Because no one has given me a gift before. No one cared too much about my well being, for it was always Feliciano that got all of the love and attention._

_For once in my lifetime, I was filled with positive emotions. I was filled with awe and true happiness, even a bit flattery. That's when I realized…_

_Spain...was different from the others. Sure, he probably hated my guts when we first met, but...he didn't even seem to mind my attitude and personality anymore. He took care of me, even when I fucked up just about everything in his house. I was lazy, stubborn, stupid, mean, rude, obnoxious...the list could go on and on._

_Yet...he only smiled at me, and only at me. Spain laughed it off as if it was nothing, called me cute, that I looked like a 'tomato'. And then another realization came to me: he didn't seem to treat me as if I was just another piece of land that he gained. Instead, he treated me for me._

_That stupid idiot treated me like a real person; a human. He didn't treat me like South Italy, Romano. Instead, he treated me like Lovino Vargas._

_Today was probably the best day in my whole entire fucked up life. And I absolutely loved it._

" _It's so-so, bastard. Next time, you better get me a high-class gift!" I replied with a huff, though I couldn't resist myself and began tapping my foot to the music a bit._

_His laughter was ringing in my ears again, and I could tell his watchful eyes were on me. "Dance, Romano! Dance your sadness and fears away! If you trip and fall, Boss will be here to catch you and help you back up on your feet!"_

_And so I did._

_I closed my eyes for concentration._

_I felt my body move on its own. Every time my feet touched the stone ground, my heart soared. Every movement of my arms were like the wings of a swan; graceful, yet dignified. I hadn't felt so alive in ages. All I heard was the wonderful music in my ears, all of my worries and fears were unleashed from my dancing. It felt like I was soaring through the sky, able to touch the clouds and be free of everything of the world._

_And then I felt someone's presence beside me. I opened my eyes, pausing momentarily, only to see Spain dancing along with the music as well. He looked down and caught me staring, and he smiles. "Come on, Romanito! Enjoy the music with me!"_

_In an instant, I felt my body being lifted up onto his shoulders. "Woah!" I exclaimed, eyes widening at how everything suddenly became taller. Now it truly felt like I was flying, that I was free. It felt like I could see the whole entire world on Spain's shoulders._

" _Hold on tight!" Spain says, voice full of glee. He holds my legs tightly, and I barely have time to register what he had just said before he charges forwards, making me gasp and hold onto his neck for support._

_Before I knew it, I was a ball of laughter and smiles. "Go faster, you jerk!" I shouted through the wind that was blowing in my face._

_He complies, running faster. I hear him shout back to me as he laughed: "Romano! We'll be together forever!" The spaniard all-too-happily declares to the world, before taking a deep breath and continuing, "You're the best henchman in the world!"_

_I didn't say anything; but I felt my heart race at his words. Dammit. What a bastard. "Of course I am, you bastard! You should be happy you have the world's best henchman!"_

_After that experience, I never felt my arms and legs shake again, and I was left feeling extremely ecstatic, fulfilled, and loved._

_At that point in my life, Reino de España became a more important person to me in my life than I had originally thought he'd be._

_...And I was surprisingly okay with it. After all, he said we'd be together forever, didn't he?_

_I put all of my trust in Spa―no. To me, he was now Antonio, and I was Lovino to him. That was all I ever needed to make it through the tough years ahead, and it made me feel warm and content inside._

_He had promised me forever, after all._

* * *

Present

...Those were the good times. If only I could turn back time, I would do anything to relive that wonderful day. It was probably the most happiest day of my life, since I can remember it so vividly.

But he lied. He said we'd be together forever, but now he's going to leave me. Leave the world. Leave us, and our precious memories together...

I clenched my hands into fists and grit my teeth, trying desperately to hold back the tears. I couldn't cry. Not here, not now. Not when Antonio was missing.

I had to find him, and quick. He could be in trouble. Hurt, injured, unconscious, or maybe he's already―!

No...The possibilities were endless. I didn't even dare try to finish my last thought.

Quickly, I moved throughout the house, frantically searching for any sign of where Antonio could be. I rushed into each room, checked every nook and cranny, and yet, not a sign of Antonio was seen. "Antonio? Antonio, you bastard! Answer me!" I shouted, my voice echoing off of the walls. I was so desperate that I began to check in the most idiotic places. Underneath the beds, underneath the blankets, even under the pillows on the loveseat, for dio's sake!

The amount of worry in my mind and heart felt like it was going to consume me whole. Antonio wasn't seen anywhere in the house and didn't even respond to my desperate pleas and calls.

Wait a minute...calls?

Aha! I could just call him! If he went out, he was sure to bring his phone, right? Why the hell didn't I think of this sooner? I scolded and cursed at myself lightly.

Digging my phone out of my pocket, I quickly dialed his speed number on my smartphone (which, coincidentally, was number one) and waited. It began ringing―literally.

I heard a faint ringing in Antonio's bedroom, it was the sound of a man singing, dare I say Antonio himself― _Muchacha kiss kiss bang vengamos a bailar, muchacha kiss kiss bang vengamos a cantar..._ ―Of course...it was none other than his ringtone. Fuck. So that idiot didn't even bother bringing his phone with him!

...But I knew I couldn't really blame it on him. It was highly likely that he had forgotten it, seeing the state that he was in now. But, where the hell would he go without even leaving me a single note?

Honestly...I was surprised that he could even get out of bed by himself.

Without knowing what to do, I sighed and fell back onto the loveseat, sighing miserably as I began to weigh the worries on my mind. Antonio was missing, that was a given. But not only was that bastard missing, but he was also sick and forgetful, which only added to my pile of worries. Goddamit.

I was on the verge of tears and giving up on everything in my shitty life. I could feel my hands slowly begin to shake and tremble― _oh god no, why is this happening?!_ ―as I stared at them in a mixture of fear, surprise, and anger. This hasn't happened in centuries! Why the fuck was it coming back now of all time…?

I tried to form my hand into a fist.

It worked.

...But it was still trembling― _ohgodohgodohgod_ ― _fuck,_ I needed Antonio in times like these!

I didn't know what to do―I could feel the clutches of the shock begin to dominate me as I began to slowly hyperventilate. My breathing began breathy and uneven, and before I knew it, I was gasping for air as my whole body shook. I fell onto the loveseat until I was completely laying on it.

I...I couldn't breathe!  _Fuckfuckfuck!_

I reached out my shaking hand and grasped out for  _anything, anyone, someone!_

My vision was rapidly fading as my other hand was clutched against my chest. This is it. This must be the fucking end of―

_"Rico tomate, rico tomate…"_

Wait a fucking second...

_"Muy rico, mm!"_

That voice!

_"Tomate! Sebu el rojo, baja el amarillo…"_

My eyes snapped open and I felt his voice begin to soothe my nerves. I didn't know how just his voice could give me such an immediate reaction, but I wasn't complaining.

Feeling slightly better, I shifted on the loveseat and sat up weakly with determination. Antonio was near.

_"Toma toma tomate! Si!"_

I slowly stood up on weak knees and began to walk towards his voice. Antonio…

_"Para la pasta esta el tomate…"_

My legs seemed to walk on their own, guiding me into the direction where the light was shining brightly. Before I knew it, I was blinded by that light―that light that was Antonio himself, and the sunlight.

My eyes slowly adjusted to the light and the images in front of me locked into place like a puzzle.

The wind was weaving through my hair, caressing it gently. The strong smell of ripe and grown tomatoes filled my nostrils, the smell of nature was almost overwhelming. But there, in the middle of the tomato garden, stood Antonio.

He was singing and humming his song, happily picking tomatoes, clad in his pajamas and messy state. He looked so weak, so much more fragile than the tomatoes and leaves itself, it was frightening. However, he seemed to be having no difficulty gathering tomatoes whatsoever, even in his tattered and worn-down state.

I took a small step forward, towards him. "An―Antonio…" I called out softly, the wind carrying my message to his ears.

He seemed to have heard me, because he slowly turned around. A basket of tomatoes was in his hands. His face suddenly broke out into a huge, genuine smile―something I had craved for and hadn't seen in months. It almost made my heart stop as I felt like I fell in love with him all over again, leaving me breathless.

His emerald eyes were twinkling with glee and seemed to have lit up when he saw me, and I must admit...he still looked fucking handsome even if he didn't shower, was in his pajamas, and his hair was all messed up…

"Lovi!" Antonio exclaimed breathlessly, strolling over to me with that basket of tomatoes in his hands. I was still shocked speechless that he could walk perfectly fine on his own."Welcome home, Lovino!"

I gaped at him, my mind losing all words that I had planned to say. "I―What are you doing here, you idiot? You should be resting in bed!" I had said instead. I was seriously worried about his well-being, dammit!

He smiles again―I need to get used to his breathtaking smiles all over again―and reaches one hand out to pat my head gently. His hand feels big and warm on top of my head, and it warmed my heart and soul.

"I can't just stay in bed today, mi tomate. It's you special day today, isn't it?" That damned Spaniard said softly, making me look up at him with wide eyes. "And every year when it's your birthday, I always pick you the best tomatoes. Just because I'm sick, doesn't mean the tradition has stopped, mi Lovinito." He grinned a bit before he moved the hair away from my forehead and kissed it.

...How did he remember? Oh  _dío,_  he remembered that it was my birthday...

"You idiot!" I shouted at him, but it came out like a sob. I felt tears well up in my eyes as my shoulders began to shake. "You're...a stupid...dumbass…!" I exclaimed, the emotions stirring inside of me as I began to punch him lightly in the chest repeatedly.

He had never remembered anything else in the past and easily forgot things, but he had remembered my birthday.

The tears began to roll down my cheeks as I sobbed out of happiness.

"I told you that I'd never forget anything about you, or you yourself. I intend to keep that promise." I heard him say, and it made me feel special, so overwhelmingly happy.

"Stupido! Bastardo! I hate you… I hate you!" I sniffed and hiccuped lamely, continuing to punch him.

" _Yo también te quiero, mi amor..._ " He whispered into my ear, successfully making me blush. I saw him set down the basket of tomatoes before he took my chin and gently lifted it up, wiping away my tears.

" _...Te amo, bastardo._ " I whispered back as the wind swept my words away.

He looked into my eyes, and I did the same. How his perfect, emerald eyes reflected into my own fascinated me.

And then he pulled me into a passionate, scorching kiss.

END.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omake
> 
> The following week...
> 
> Antonio slowly awoke from the sunlight that was shining through his bedroom window, stirring a bit.
> 
> "Hey, bastard. Wake up." I poked his stomach, and Antonio couldn't help but grin as he opened his eyes.
> 
> "Buenos días, Lovi."
> 
> And then I did something unexpected. I wrapped my arms around the idiot and mumbled, "I love you."
> 
> Antonio was surprised at first, but loved the affection nonetheless. He wrapped his arms around me and smiled. "I love you too, Lovino Vargas."
> 
> I smiled into his shoulder.
> 
> Because even if Antonio had forgotten about my birthday last week, I would wake up him everyday with an 'I love you'.
> 
> It didn't matter how many times Antonio forgot about our confessions, because I would remind him each time he did.
> 
> Three words: I love you.
> 
> We both had promised each other forever, after all.
> 
> And I was willing to go through with it until the very end.
> 
> \---
> 
> Author's Note:
> 
> *(1) 'dance the shakiness away' - In Hetalia:Axis Powers Volume one it's revealed that Romano as a child (Or Chibi!Romano) had Cholera and that's why he was so clumsy. Spain's guitar playing helped Romano dance Cholera away.
> 
> Notes: Did any of you guys noticed that I used the lines that Spain and Romano used in their Mawaru Chikyuu Rondo duet during the flashback? I couldn't help it, dear gosh. It's way too adorable to not put into the story! Oh, and Spain's ringtone...I hope a lot of you know what song that is. ;)
> 
> I didn't want to end the story with Antonio's death, that's just cruel―especially when Lovino's suffered enough already. How this story ends and continues is completely up to your imagination… Anyhow, now that this story is completed, I'll go ahead and resume my other fanfiction, 'Hasta la Vista, Baby'. It's been a pleasure working with everyone on this story!
> 
> Also, before anyone asks any questions, I would like to clear something up. The reason why Antonio remembered that it was Lovino's birthday was because of the music box. My friend's grandfather had Alzheimer's, and he had managed to remember things through music. Since the music box had such a precious and familiar sound to it, Antonio managed to remember a few things from the past.
> 
> Reviews and constructive criticism are welcomed!


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